Truce (2): The Vampire Mafia and Werewolf Gang's Truce!
It was a damn intriguing topic: the truce between the vampire mafia and the werewolf gang.
Especially those in the underworld had all sorts of things to say about it.
"Two mortal enemies joining hands? There has to be some ulterior motive. Like a plot for a massive war or something."
In truth, the truce between the two organizations was just a smokescreen, a prelude to all-out conflict.
"That cunning bitch Morgana. Teaming up with werewolves she despises on a visceral level? She's definitely planning to stab them in the back. The wolves are too dumb to see it coming."
Or maybe the vampires were the ones deceiving the werewolves into this truce.
"The werewolves finally got smart. Luring the vampires into their territory to wipe them out in one go. The so-called Blood Wedding Operation."
On the flip side, the werewolves were slyly drawing in the vampires for a decisive strike…
Amid all the rampant rumors and speculation, the day of the truce arrived.
"Look at them, all geared up and rolling in heavy. They could start a war right here."
"Yeah… those fucking bastards. What if they just open fire out of nowhere?"
"That won't happen, so relax."
And the mastermind behind it all, Asmodeus, watched the vampires' vehicles pull up boldly, arms crossed leisurely.
The werewolves, clad in baggy tank tops, glared at the vampires stepping out of their sleek black sedans with sour expressions.
"They look ready to rip us apart any second."
"We didn't come here expecting a warm welcome, did we? Stay sharp."
"Yes. But the werewolves look way healthier than last time we saw them…"
A small-scale drug operation couldn't feed hundreds of gang members.
That was why the werewolves were always starving—their frames scrawny, their fur dull and patchy.
But after building up a major commercial district, their nutrition had visibly improved.
"They're already a handful in close quarters as it is…"
"That might've been true in the days of swords and bows. Ever since guns came along, beastkin like them lost all their edge—you know that."
Still, numbers were numbers. If these wolves—who utterly loathed vampires—charged in a frenzy, the damage would be severe.
Camilla fiddled with the machine gun hidden in her coat… In an emergency, she'd have no choice but to mow them all down.
"Boss, we've arrived."
"Mm. Good."
Thankfully, the werewolves didn't give in to their primal hatred. No jeers or mockery either.
"Looks like their leader drilled some discipline into them."
"…Yeah."
"Miss?"
Tremble, tremble… At that moment, Morgana's legs shook.
From relaxed tension? No. Her highly developed sense of smell, attuned to the faintest blood scents, picked up a subtle liquid aroma.
The sticky white fluid she'd smelled plenty in her dreams, drunk down, and taken deep inside her pussy…
Asmodeus's semen.
Damn it, damn it… I was right. That little shit must've done something to me!
How the hell had an imp pulled that off…? He must've borrowed power from some demon kin relatives.
"I-I'm fine. My legs are just weak from sitting too long. Let's head inside quick."
"…Yes."
As they headed toward the restaurant the werewolves had prepared for the truce talks, a fishy, milky scent invaded Morgana's nose more and more.
Her whole body quivered. With every step, her lower belly throbbed insistently.
Haah… Morgana let out a hot sigh as she entered the restaurant like a woman entranced.
"Ah, perfect timing—they're coming this way… Over here. Hope the food suits your taste."
"Ugh…"
"Carsick? I hear your health isn't great."
Camilla reacted instantly to the impudent attitude, raising her machine gun and aiming it at him.
"Fix that attitude if you don't wanna die, imp."
"How dare a half-breed vampire get cocky. You'd better put that gun away if you don't wanna die."
Rasca shot up from her seat in outrage too, fearless of the machine gun.
"Enough, both of you. We want to talk to Lady Morgana. Leave the premises now."
"I've never once left Lady Morgana's side…"
"Camilla! Wait outside. Sorry, but this doesn't concern you."
"…Pardon? But there has to be at least one of us inside the shop."
Morgana scolded Camilla instead. When her revered boss—also her closest friend—spoke like that, she was left stunned and speechless.
"You're not ignoring me, are you? I don't want to have to punish you myself."
"Understood… ma'am."
And just like that, even the most trusted Camilla was gone. Inside the shop remained only Rasca, Asmodeus, and Morgana.
"You crazy little fuck… What the hell have you been up to? You lost your mind or something?"
The moment Camilla left, Morgana called out the source of that semen scent she'd been smelling all along.
"No idea what you're talking about. Mind your language—we're here to make a truce."
"If you're thinking of fooling me right now—"
"Hm? Still don't get it? Food'll be out soon anyway—let's eat and talk."
The source of that scent wafted from none other than between Rasca's legs.
How much had he dumped in her? As Morgana's gaze drifted downward, the werewolf gang leader's face flushed red.
"I hear you vampires want a truce with us werewolves. What brought that on?"
"Kuh… Even werewolves have some honor. You wouldn't attack an ally out of nowhere."
Shlick, shlick. That's when it happened—a sound from Rasca's thigh.
Morgana paused mid-sentence, focusing on the noise.
He's touching her?
An imp daring to touch that sturdy werewolf's thigh. And at a truce meeting, no less.
If it weren't Asmodeus, his skull would've been crushed instantly, brains splattered everywhere.
But… Rasca just let him. And not only that—she even parted her legs a little.
"I think a truce is a great idea too. Don't you, Lady Rasca?"
"Uh, uh-huh…"
The hand stroking her thigh slid deeper in. Rasca brazenly spread her legs wide.
"Werewolves and vampires don't get along, but if we band together, we'll be stronger than anyone."
Squelch, squuuuelch. Fingers plunged into her pussy. No more hiding it now.
Morgana watched, utterly speechless… Was this really happening?
She should be furious right now. But… she couldn't. Her eyes stayed fixed on Rasca's body.
Even a werewolf can't help but cringe when poked like that.
Just a tiny finger inside, and Rasca writhed helplessly, taking it without resistance.
Was I like that too?
Suddenly, the hypnosis on her shattered. The "massage" she'd received was nothing but a fingering.
"Ah…"
"Something wrong, Lady Morgana? Oh, right—we haven't ordered. Actually, we sent the staff outside, so no one's cooking."
"Are you… humiliating me right now?"
"Of course, Morgana Bloodveil. You've been fooled by me this whole time."
Squish-squish-squish-squish!! Rasca's pussy got finger-fucked faster and faster. Soon, spluuurt… her juices gushed out, staining the restaurant floor.
"Morgana, Morgana… You still think I'm an imp? How foolish."
"You, you're…"
"I'm an incubus. The ruler who dominates females and reigns over this city. Kneel before me."
Incubus—just exposing one got you a 10 billion bounty.
Morgana could rush outside, report his location to the authorities, claim the reward, and deal with her thorn-in-the-side werewolves in one go.
She could. But she didn't want to.
"Ah…"
Thump-thump.
Just looking at him made her knees weak. Her heart raced uncontrollably.
Why? Why did she crave submission to this man…?
Why was she like this? Morgana slowly succumbed to weakness. Like Rasca, she yearned to fulfill her role as a female.
"Kneel, and I'll grant you endless pleasure."
"I—"
"Then just obey my every word without thinking. That's a female's true purpose."
Morgana's resolve crumbled bit by bit. Her wealth, her status—all she wanted was to offer them to Asmodeus.
Won't take long.
Asmodeus prepared the Marking of obedience. Time for the final stage.